


Of Strengths and Weaknesses

by Xanisis



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, coda 2x09, i think i only moderately succeeded, i tried to write a fix it fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanisis/pseuds/Xanisis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You make me weak,” she tells him like it’s breaking her heart. It’s breaking his.<br/>“No,” he says, fists his hand in her hair.<br/>There are tears in her eyes, but they aren’t lying anymore and that’s something,</p><p> or </p><p>  <i> In which Bellamy goes after her. <i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Strengths and Weaknesses

“You should go,” Clarke says and for a moment Bellamy thinks he's heard her wrong.

“I thought you didn’t like the plan,” he says. “Thought it would get me killed.”

“I was being weak,” she says and it’s almost like he’s looking at a different person. “It’s worth the risk.”

He thinks of the look in her eyes when she’d said “I can’t lose you too”, the fear, the longing. He feels the same right now, but she’s still here, standing right in front of him. I can’t lose you too, he thinks. I’ve lost enough already.

“Good luck,” she says, like she’s saying goodbye.

“Clarke,” he calls after her, following her as she leaves the fireside and heads off into the woods.

She stops walking, turns slowly, reluctantly.

“What do you want, Bellamy?” she asks. He almost believes the apathy in her voice, but he holds onto her face from yesterday, he has to.

“What are you doing?” he asks, moving closer to her.

She almost, not quite flinches, backing away from him. He stops.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but she carries the words with an uneasy weight.

“Why do you really want me to go?” he asks her.

“It’s the logical thing to do, Bellamy,” she says and it sounds like she’s making excuses. “You said so yourself.”

“I did, but that’s not the reason you want me to go.”

She looks unstable, her eyes flitting back and forth, her face out of balance. She doesn’t look like Clarke. Bellamy wants to shake her, to hold her, to do something, anything to take the haunted look from her eyes. Gustus would have done anything to protect Lexa, he knows. Maybe they are not so different. There are few things he would not do for Clarke. Leave her when she looks like this, detached and melancholic, is one of them.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Clarke says, voice level, completely modulated. Bellamy wonders if the real Clarke is in there, straining to get out.

He moves closer, watches the way her breath hitches, hopes he’s not imagining the flicker in her eyes.

“Tell me the real reason you changed your mind.”

“Love is weakness,” she whispers, barely audible, soft enough that he thinks maybe he heard her wrong. She can’t possibly mean what he thinks she means.

He thinks of the Clarke Griffin he knows with her fierce anger, the fire that burned in her eyes, the way she took up causes like she was picking flowers, of Lincoln who left his people and fought by the side of strangers, of Octavia with her steel and her warrior’s braids, the ferocity with which she would defend her family, of Raven and the love that had crafted a space ship and sent her rocketing towards earth.

“No,” he says, cups Clarke’s face. Her eyes look open and unguarded and almost unbearably sad.

“You make me weak,” she tells him like it’s breaking her heart. It’s breaking his.

“No,” he says, fists his hand in her hair.

There are tears in her eyes, but they aren’t lying anymore and that’s something,

“Love is strength,” he says. “I thought you knew that.”

“I was wrong,” she says.

“You weren’t,” he says, and he’s saying more than he probably should, but he needs her to understand. He needs her to be Clarke again, the girl who cared too damn much, as much as he did.

“Don’t shut me out,” he whispers, presses his forehead against hers, feels her tears stain the palm of his hand. “Don’t shut me out.”

She reaches for him, wraps her arms around his waist, buries her face in the crook of his neck, and he lets out a long exhale before wrapping his arms around her, crushing her to him. She’s shaking in his arms.

“I don’t want to ever feel this way again,” she says. “I can’t.”

“I know,” he whispers, smooths his hand over her hair. He loves her so much it hurts.

“I’m going to come back,” he says.

Clarke pushes him away, wipes her eyes, looks at him almost like the Clarke he remembers would.

“You better,” she says.

He nods his head. “I’ll see you on the other side, princess,” he says.

He prays that he isn’t lying.


End file.
